


All the words to describe you

by orphan_account



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual relationship, M/M, Slow Burn, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 21:31:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16710394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He never truly new why such type of people made him basically recoil into his previously broken shell and turn into a brightly colored tomato.“No need to be nervous.”Fuck, if that helped he wouldn’t be human.^sadly, discontinued for now. writer will continue when gets more motivation!^





	1. Monachopsis: subtle yet persistent feeling of being out of place.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shewasagaystripper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewasagaystripper/gifts).



> just something i wrote up after reading some writings by @shewasagaystripper and loved them. chose to write my own story and of course dedicate it to the best Queen writer on this websiste. 
> 
> enjoy. 
> 
> i guess.

Roger’s hair was worthless against the deep humidity of the London summer. It sprung helplessly upwards, tangling and curling by the second. He didn’t even bother to do much to it this morning. He was only half dressed and already late t-shirt half buttoned. He just sprayed some shit on it and deemed it ‘fine’. 

He turned right into the clear puddle, soaking his shoes and cursing himself for being such a bloody fucking idiot. He had an interview that day-for a band. Even after all his parent’s miserable attempts to get him to ‘try out’ for a normal job-he had fucked up all their hopes and dreams by moving downtown into to a run-down apartment and playing the drums at random bar for a living.

If you can even call it that.

He tossed into the apartment building, the radiator humming softly in the background. He anxiously pushed the up button, clicking it multiple times. His fingers slid off the button before he wiped his hands on his jeans. 

By the time he got upstairs his hair was a fucking reck, and it didn’t help that he was as well. 

He got to room 1317, and before he could let himself think he quickly tapped on the door. It opened instantly, showing the face of a man who had dark brown hair, curling all around his head, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“Roger?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Come on in.” He hit his hand against the side of the doorway before moving out of the way, revealing a group of two people, all seemingly completely different in looks. 

One was wearing a hawaiian-patterned shirt and jeans, a blank smile on his face. Though the one lying next to him caught Roger’s full attention-he had thick, dark black hair that was slightly tousled to the eye. The black platform boots baring various pieces of what seemed to be silver-and it was all topped off with a leather jacked sloppily thrown on his shoulders. 

“Hello dear.” The man smiled, he obviously has seen people react in such a way before. Roger scratched the back of neck nervously. God, he was such an idiot.

He never truly new why such type of people made him basically recoil into his previously broken shell and turn into a brightly colored tomato. 

“No need to be nervous.” 

Fuck, if that helped he wouldn’t be human. 

Roger nodded, giving the three a half smile-before motioning to the back where they set up drums for him. 

“Anything you want me to play?” He asked, walking to the back area, thinking it was better not to attempt to learn their names-for there was no damn way he was getting into a band with people like that. 

“Actually, Yes.” 

—

After thirty or so minutes of non-stop drumming and various emotions showing up on the viewers faces, he was asked to go outside. 

So he did. 

He propped a leg up against the door of the apartment, knowing he was being a dick but didn’t really care because there was no way on gods green earth that he would ever play the drums again after all of that. His hands were shaking as hot-cold sweat dripped down his forehead and landed onto his lips. He had flipped the drumstick in his hand as his blond curls flipped in front of his eyes, not really affecting him for he knew the movements of his hands by heart. And damn he was tired by the end. 

When the door opened he practically jumped out of his mind, the words “You’re in.” did not help his state of self endured chaos. “Come again?” He had asked, attempting to run a hand through his hair but giving up around half way through. 

“You’re in.” 

His eyes were drawn to the jacket-covered man, a smile plastered on his lips and eyes the color of a coffee table at midnight.

Roger looked back to the semi-confused but mostly ecstatic person in front of him, and smiled slightly as he laughed and said “Well-what are we waiting for?”


	2. Orphic: Mysterious and entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuckfuckfuckfuck
> 
>  
> 
> sorry for the terrible update and how long it took me. it was a long story and the chapter got deleted and i had to start all over again but here we are- love you all.

Over the weeks Roger began to observe the man more closely. 

He found out his name was Freddie, of course, but he also found out the way his eyes lightened when he talked about something he enjoyed, highlighting his abnormally long eyelashes, and the way a smile lingered on his lips longer than others. 

He got to know that smile well, though it was a rare occurrence. He payed attention when he saw it. Freddie’s lips were thin but full, tinted pink like the sunrise on a mild summer morning. They turned upwards into his cheek, lightly covered in black stubble which traced up into his cheekbone.

Every now and then when he looked up he caught Freddie’s eyes tracing over him with the same fascination that took over Roger’s mind every so often. Though it was just plain curiosity that caused such things, he couldn’t help but blush when he saw Freddie wave from across the room. 

“Earth to Roger.” 

His hands were bright red and numb from the wood rubbing against his hands, and his energy had been chewed raw. After thirty, sweaty, bickering filled minutes they had all given up any attempt and genuine conversation. 

Brian and John were sprawled out on the couch next to Freddie, exchanging meaningless words as well as trying to get Roger to chime in.

As he kept to himself he felt a pair of eyes roll over him as he tensed, the hair on the back of his sweat slicked neck standing up. His blond hair pushed in countless directions, his lips were chapped and scabbed at their brims and his shirt was wrinkled far beyond acceptable. 

He stayed bunched up until the two arseholes threw out some excuse to leave and get drunk of their minds. Roger was left to Freddie’s cold, yet warm, presence, their eyes connecting as bits and scraps of conversation flew out of Roger’s mouth, causing the latter to give off the smile Roger treasured with his life. 

It was warm and melted all the tension out of the atmosphere-gut wrenching and heartbreaking at the same time.


End file.
